The Potter Twins Year 1
by Marvels sister
Summary: Harry and Kyla Potter had always lived a boring life with Dursleys. Until a letter changed everything. Now they have to deal with magic, trolls, and an evil being trying to kill them. Will they survive? Or will they be killed? (I suck at summaries)
1. Chapter 1

**_Just some information:_**

**_I made this specifically for people who_****_ enjoy Harry Potter. I was going to do reader insert but that sounded too complicated_** _for my plan I have._

**_If you are homophobic don't read this. Since I'm going to use my OC character Kyla, she's going to like girls instead of boys._**

**_Also it's based of the movies and books. So some parts will be cut. Hope you enjoy!_**

**_I own nothing and nobody but Kyla._**

**G/R/H/S/G/R/H/S/G/R/H/S**

**Potter Twins and the Sorcerers Stone**

Chapter 1

The Twins Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number 4, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly , thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blond with nearly twice the usual amount of a neck, which came on very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursley's had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy any where.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear wad someone would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potter's. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they haven't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shudder to think what the neighbors would say of the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potter's had twins, a boy and a girl, but they had never ever seen them. The twins was another good reason for keeping the Potters away, they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed ad he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of the noticed a large, tawney owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his breifcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street he noticed something peculiar — a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't relize what he had seen — then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive — no, _looking _at the sign; cat's couldn't read maps _or _signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward the town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But at the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you'd saw on young people! He supposed this was some new stupid fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of those weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt — these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. _He _didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He's forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next tot gege baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them then, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard — "

" — yes, their twins, Harry and Kyla — "

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought the better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his offuce,snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking. . . . . . no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had twins called Harry and Kyla. Come to think of it, he wadn't even sure his neice and nephew were called Kyla and Harry. He'd never even seen them. It might have been Harvey and Kirsten. Or Harold and Kassie. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at the metion of her sister.

He didn't blame her — if _he'd _had a sister like that. . . . . but all the same, those people in cloaks. . . . . He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o' clock, he was till so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry." he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds bedorw Mr. Dursley relized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upaet at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made the passerby stare,

" Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You- Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw — and it didn't improve hihis mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted this morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around it's eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this not normal cat behavior? Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself inside the house. He was determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley learned a new word ( "Won't!" ). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to watch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nations owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of the these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern."

The newscaster allowed himself a grin.

"Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight Jim?"

"Well Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaphs people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not umtil next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters. . . . .

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he suspected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today. . . . ."

_"So?"_ snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought. . . mabye. . . . it was something to do with. . . . you know. . . . _her _crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared to tell her he'd heard the name "Potter". He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could,

" Their twins — they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's their names again? Howard and Kirsty, isn't it?"

"Harry and Kyla. Nasty, common names, if you asked me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs for bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into.the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did. . . . . if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got ininto bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursly lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thiught before he fell asleep was thateven if the Potters _were_ involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind. . . . He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — ic coukdn't affect _them_. . . .

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showning no signs of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and it's eyes narrowed.

Nithing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and vety old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seen to relize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots were unwelcome. He was buay rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still ataring at him from the other end of the street. For aome reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered,

"I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put- Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it was gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather server-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day." said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way over here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's been celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."

She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living room window.

"I heard it. Flocks of owls. . . . shooting stars. . . Well, they're not completely stupid. Thet were bound to notice something. Shooting stars in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense "

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently, " We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritability. " But there's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothing, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as if hoping he was going to tell him something, but he didn't so she went on,

" A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore, " We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

" A lemon drop. There a Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you." said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the time for lemon drops. " As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"

"My dear professor, surely a sensibly person like yourself can call him by his name. All this You-Know-Who nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice.

"It gets all confusing if we say You-Know-Who. I have never seen any reason to be frighten of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall with half exasperated, half admired. "But your different. Everyone knows your the only one You-Know, oh all right, _Voldemort_, was frightened of."

"You flatter me." Dumbledore said calmly. " Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because your to noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madame Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said,

"The owls are nothing next to the rumors flying around. You know what they are saying? About why he dissapeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed Professor McGonagall had reaches a point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither cat or as a woman she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing as she did now. It wa splain that whatever "everyone was saying", she was not going to belive until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

" What they're saying," she pressed on, " is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hallow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that James and Lily are — are -- that they're -- dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

" Lily and James. . . . I can't belive it. . . . I didn't want to belive it . . . . Oh, Albus. . ."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder, " I know. . . . I know." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she continued,

" That's not all. Their saying he tried to kill the Potter's children, Harry and Kyla. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill the two twins. No one knows why, or how, but their saying he couldn't kill the Potter twins, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's -- it's true?" faltered McGonagall, "After all he's done. . . . all the people he's killed. . . . he couldn't kill two children? It's just astonishing. . . . of all the things that would stop him. . . . but how in the name of heaven did they survive?"

"We can only guess, " said Dumbledore, " "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said,

"Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes." said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why your here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring the twins to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean -- you _can't _mean the people who live _here_?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't! I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they got this son -- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets! Harry and Kyla Potter live here?"

"It is the best place for them." said Dumbledore firmly, looking very serious over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It will be enough yo turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk or talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that till their ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and said,

"Yes-Yes, your right, of course. But how is the boy and girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though as though she thought he might be hiding the twins underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them"

"You think it's — _wise _— to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly. "but you can't pretend he's not careless."

"He does tend to — what is that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the man sitting astride in it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and five times as wide. He looked, simply, to big to be allowed, and just a wild — long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash-can lids, and his in leather boots were the size of baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding two bundles of blankets.

"Hagrid." said Dumbledore, sounding relived. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it Professor Dumbledore, sir, " said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke, "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got the twins sir."

"No promblems, were there?"

"No sir, -- house was almost destroyed, but I got them alright before the Muggles started swarmin' around. Harry fell asleep while flying over Bristol."

"And Kyla?"

"Still awake, sir. Started laughing at the clouds."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the first bundle if blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Besides the boy, in another bundle, layed a girl, smiling up at them and giggling.

Under a tuff of jet -black hair over Harry's forehead, they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt if lightning. The same cut rested on Kyla's right eye, though she could still see clearly.

"Is that where - ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, " They'll have those scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give them here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his left arm, while steadying Kyla with his right and turned towards the Dursley's house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him, what must have been a very scratchy, whispery kiss before turning to little Kyla. He gave her the same kiss as her brother, when she grabbed his beard and planted her own little lips on his beard, giving him a kiss. Suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles."

"S-So-Sorry," sobbed Hagrid, removing Kyla's fingers from his beard, "But I c-c-can't stand it! Lily and James dead -- and poor little Harry and Kyla off to live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself Hagrid, or else we'll all be found." Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagris gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid rhe twins down gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," Dumbledore said, finally, " that's that. We habe no business staying here. Let's go join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose itself into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said nodding to her, Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets at the steps of number four.

" Goodluck Harry, good luck Kyla." he murmered. He turned on his heel and at the swish if his cloak, he was gone.

**_G/R/H/S/G/R/H/S/G/R/H/S_**

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you'd expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up and reach one chubby arm to hug his twin sister, like he would always do. Kyla yawned and snuggled closer to her brother reaching over and grabbing the letter that he was also still holding. Not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken up in a few hours time, by Mrs. Dursley scream as she openes the front door to put the milk bottles out, nor that they would be prodded by Dudley over the next couple weeks. They wouldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voice,

" To Harry and Kyla Potter -- the twins who lived!"

**_G/R/H/S/G/R/H/S/G/R/H/S_**

_Okay, that took forever to write._

_I hope you all enjoy this_, _the updates will be slow though._

_I need some help with the love interest parts -- I'm thinking_ _Luna should be the love interest__, or I could just add another OC._

_If you think it should be someone else, please leave their name in the comments._

_Thank you for reading!!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone**

**Chapter **2

**The Vanishing Glass**

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew and niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that two more children lived in the house.

Yet the Potter twins were still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. Harry wnet to look at Kyla but she must of gotten up early. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday.

Harry groaned. Well, that explained why Kyla got up early, to avoid Petunia's perfect birthday wrath.

Petunia yelled at the door,

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Dudley's birthday — how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was use to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that is where the twins slept.

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag were the twins, but he couldn't often catch them. They didn't look it, but there were very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but the twins had always been small and skinny for their age. They looked even smaller and skinnier than they really were because all they had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than they were.

Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had had it as long as he could remember.

Kyla also had a thin face and knobbly knees, but her hair was was a weird mixture of black and red. She had bright green eyes and had reading glasses that were held together by colorful duct tape because of the times Dudley push her to the ground. There was a thin scar on her eyelid shaped as a lightning bolt, that has always been there. At least is has for her.

It was the first question they could ever remember asking Aunt Petunia was how they each gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions. "

Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. Kyla was behind him carrying at least 7 presents.

"Comb your hair! Both of you!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut and Kyla needed her hair dyed. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way -- all over the place. Kyla's hair never seemed to stayed dyed longer than a hour.

Harry and Kyla were frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel -- Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig, and Kyla said he looked like a sunken beach ball.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year. "

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy. "

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over. Kyla did the same the same with her eggs.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty. . . thirty. . . "

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh. " Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then. "

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Kyla and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them. " She jerked her head in the twins direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's and Kyla's heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, they were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. They hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at them as though they planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again. Kyla was poking Harry in excitement and hope.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them. "

The Dursleys often spoke about the twins like this, as though they weren't there -- or rather, as though they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully (they'd be able to watch what they wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer. After fighting for the remote).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"We won't blow up the house," said Kyla, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, ". . . and leave them in the car. . . "

"That car's new, they aren't sitting in it alone. . . "

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying -- it had been years since he'd really cried -- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I. . . don't. . . want. . . them. . . t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoils everything!" He shot the twins a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry and Kyla, who couldn't believe their luck, were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. Their aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken the twins aside.

"I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, kids -- any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas. "

"We're not going to do anything," said Kyla, "honestly. . . "

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe her. No one ever belived them.

The problem was, strange things often happened around them and it was just no good telling the Dursleys they didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar. " Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry as Kyla tried to find a hat for him, he spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force Kyla to dye her hair (brown and black). It was awful and gave it a strange crispy, burnt effect. The dye didn't stay in and Aunt Petunia gave her two days in the cupboard. thinking Kyla washed it out when she wasn't looking.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

The Dursleys had also got a letter describing how Kyla had thrown all the paper in the air after arguing with a teacher. She tried to say that all that happened was, she told the teacher that they assigned the wrong page for homework when everyone's paper flew in the air. She just assumed the window was opened and the wind blew the papers.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, their cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Kyla, the bank, and the twins were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

". . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying.

" I had the same dream! There was a green light too!" Kyla exclaimed.

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at the twins, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"We know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream. "

But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his and Kyla asking questions, it was their talk about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon -- they seemed to think that they might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Kyla what they wanted before they could hurry them away, they bought each of them a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't horrible, either, Kyla thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

The twins had the best morning they had in a long time. They were careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting and pushing them. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry and Kyla were allowed to split the first.

They felt, afterward, that they should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he had Kyla to keep him company.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time. "

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying. "

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"

"Who are you talking to?" Kyla asked, appearing next to him.

The snake moved its tail in a waving manner.

"Oh! Hello snake. Is Harry boring you?"

"Hey, your the boring one!" Harry joked.

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made the three of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs and pushing Kyla. Caught by surprise, they fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry and Kyla sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come. . . Thanksss, amigo. "

Kyla looked at him quizzicaly.

"Did the snake just say...?"

* * *

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Kyla had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for the twins at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "The twins was talking to it, weren't you guys?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on them. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Harry and Kyla lay in their dark cupboard much later, wishing one of them had a watch. They pased some time playing made-up games. But they didn't know what time it was and they couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, they couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

The twins lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as each could remember, ever since they've been babies and their parents had died in that car crash. Neither of them could remember being in the car when their parents had died. Sometimes, when they strained their memory's during long hours in the cupboard, they came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on Harry's forehead and Kyla's eye. This, they supposed, was the crash, though neither of them could imagine where all the green light came from. The best they could come up with was a traffic light. They couldn't remember their parents at all. Their aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course they were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When they were younger, Harry and Kyla had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take them away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were their only family. Yet sometimes they thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know them. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to Kyla once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Kyla furiously if she knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at Harry once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken their hands in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second they tried to get a closer look.

At school, they only had each other. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated the odd Potters in their baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

* * *

_Sorry if this isn't that smooth. There were a lot of pronouns in this chapter and I could only use They/Them for it to make sense. I'll try to make it better next time._

_ I hope everyone has a good day. ( ͡з ͡)_


	3. Chapter 3

Potter Twins and The Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 3

Letters from No One

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned the twins their longest-ever punishment. By the time they were allowed out of the cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad school was over (Kyla was not), but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Potter Poaching.

This was why Harry and Kyla spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around, playing games, and thinking about the end of the holidays, where they could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came they would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in their life, they wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry and Kyla, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told them. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick. " Then they both ran, laughing, before Dudley could work out what Harry had said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and Kyla at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let them watch television and gave them a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh. Kyla gave herself a bruise from pinching herself to stay silent.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry and Kyla went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. They went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's that?" Kyla asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if they dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniforms," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet. "

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished. "

They seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. They sat down at the table and tried not to think about how they were going to look on their first day at Stonewall High -- like they was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's and Kyla's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Kyla," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Dudley get it. "

"Get the mail, Dudley. "

"Make Harry get it. "

"Get the mail, boy "

Harry dodged the Smelting stick Dudley poked at him and went to get the mail. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harry and Kyla.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in their whole life, had written to them. Who would? They had no friends, no other relatives -- they didn't belong to the library, so they'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Ms. K. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, gave Kyla her letter, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. . . "

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry and Kyla got something!"

Harry and Kyla were on the point of unfolding their letters, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of their hands by Uncle Vernon.

"That's ours!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness -- Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Kyla and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"I want to read it," said Harry furiously.

"It's ours!" Kyla exclaimed

"Get out, all of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Nobody moved.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" Harry shouted.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"GIVE IT BACK!" shouted Kyla.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, shoving Kyla in after, slamming the kitchen door behind them. The twins and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry and Kyla, Harry's glasses dangling from one ear, laying flat on their stomachs to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address -- how could they possibly know where they sleep? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want--"

Harry and Kyla could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer. . . Yes, that's best. . . we won't do anything. . . "

"But--"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them both in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry and Kyla in their cupboard.

"Where are our letters?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to us?" Kyla asked.

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it. "

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had our cupboard on it. "

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er -- yes, Harry, Kyla -- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking. . . you're really getting a bit big for it. . . we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"What for?" said Kyla.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now. "

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry and Kyla one trip upstairs to move everything they owned from the cupboard to this room. Harry sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. Kyla brought some over to the bed and sat down next to him.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want them in there. . . I need that room. . . make them get out. . . "

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it. Kyla layed next to him and tried to read, but could only focuse on the possibility of the letters.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Kyla was thinking of ways to find out what the letter contained. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to the twins, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, Ms. K. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -- '"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry and Kyla right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind and Kyla was holding his legs trying to pull him back. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's and Kyla's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at the twins. "Dudley -- go -- just go. "

Harry walked round and round their new room. Someone knew he and his sister had moved out of their cupboard and they seemed to know they hadn't received their first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. Kyla and Harry made a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Kyla turned it off quickly and they dressed silently. They mustn't wake the Dursleys. They stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

They were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Both their heart's

hammered as they crept across the dark hall toward the front door --

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air and Kyla fell on the ground; they'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to their horror they realized that the big, squashy something had been their uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that the twins didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at them for about half an hour and then told them to go and make a cup of tea. Harry and Kyla shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time they got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see six letters addressed in green ink, three for him and three for Kyla.

"I want -- " he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before their eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up. "

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon. "

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

* * *

On Friday, no less than twenty-four letters arrived for Harry and Kyla. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Fourty-eight letters to Kyla and Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the four dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you two this badly?" Dudley asked Harry and Kyla in amazement. Kyla just shrugged and Harry ignored him.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today--"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one while Kyla was picking some up off the ground --

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry and Kyla around the waist and threw them into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

* * *

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off. . . shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and the twins shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry and Kyla stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars, wondering and talking. . .

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter and Ms. K. Potter? I got about a two 'undred of these at the front desk. "

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Ms. K. Potter

Room 17

Railveil Hotel

Cokeworth

Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room. Kyla and Harry tried to followed but were sent back to their seats.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

"Gone?" Kyla whispered to Harry.

Harry snickered.

* * *

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "

Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday -- and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's and Kyla's eleventh birthday. Of course, their birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Dursleys had given them a coat hanger and a two pairs of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day. And Kyla pointed out it was better than nothing.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry and Kyla privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer them up at all.

* * *

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and the twins were left to find the softest bit of floor they could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blankets.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. The twins couldn't sleep. They shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, their stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told them they'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. Harry layed and watched their birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Kyla drew a cake and the words, "Happy Birthday to us! :)" in the dust on the floor.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that they'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Kyla wondered, "was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that?" And (two minutes to go) "what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?"

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds. . . twenty. . . ten. . . nine -- maybe they'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him -- three. . . two. . . one. . .

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry and Kyla sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

* * *

_Thanks to someone who sent me something about this story I understand if this story is boring or stupid right now and I'm sorry._ _But if you guys can just hold on till the actual story really starts I promise it will get better and more interesting.__And if any of you have anything you want to change to my OC then your welcomed to share._

_If you have any female love intrest for Kyla let me know!_

_Have a great day everyone! o(〃〃)o_


	4. Chapter 4

The Potter Twins and the Sorcerers Stone

Chapter 4

The Keeper of the Keys

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . "

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's the twins!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

Kyla had her mouth hanging open but her eyes were sparkling in excitement at his tall figure and shaggy hair.

"Las' time I saw you twos, you was only a baby," said the giant. He looked at Harry "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes. " Then he turned to Kyla. "Yeh look like both of 'em, but yer also got yeh mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway -- Harry, Kyla" said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right. "

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with "Happy Birthday Harry and Kyla!" written on it in green icing. Kyla stook her finger in the icing and tasted it.

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. "

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's and Kyla's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind. "

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry and Kyla felt the warmth wash over them as though they'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first seven fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley. "

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry. "

He passed the sausages to Harry and Kyla, who were so hungry they had never tasted anything so wonderful, but they still couldn't take their eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are. "

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er -- no," said Harry.

"Hog -- what?" asked Kyla

Hagrid looked shocked.

"We're sorry," Harry said quickly.

"Sorry ?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Kyla.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy -- this girl! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad. Kyla was getting annoyed. She liked learning and had great marks.

"We know some things," she said. "We can, you know, do math and grammer and stuff. "

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world. "

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble. " Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're both famous. "

"What? Our -- our mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know. . . yeh don' know. . . " Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing the twins with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are ?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from the. all these years?"

"Kept us from what?" said Harry eagerly.

"Is it awesome?" asked Kyla expectantly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry -- yer a wizard and Kyla -- yer a witch."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a what ?" gasped Harry.

"Really?" asked Kyla.

"A wizard and witch, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good 'uns, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letters. "

Harry and Kyla stretched out their hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea and Ms. K. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. They pulled out the letter and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. , Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr./Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. Kyla seemed to be making a mental list. After a few minutes Harry stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?" and Kyla asking, "Where would we get equipment?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry and Kyla could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Gave the twins their letter.

Taking them to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly. Kyla watched an owl feather float to the floor.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"Their not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them," he said.

"A what?" said the twins, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on. "

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard and Witch indeed!"

"You knew ?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"

"That I'm a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that -- that school -- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you two!"

Harty and Kyla had gone very white. As soon as Harry found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Kyla Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Kyla asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Twins, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone's gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'. "

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it. . . "

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows--"

"Who?" asked Harry.

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does. "

"Why not?" Kyla asked.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, you two, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went. . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was. . . "

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -- can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches. . . terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before. . . probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em. . . maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you's was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You two were just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an'--"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway. . .

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you two. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead an' eye? Those were no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you two, an' that's why yer famous, Twins. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you two's, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you's were only babies, an' you lived. "

Something very painful was going on in Harry's and Kyla's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, they saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than they had ever remembered it before -- and they remembered something else, for the first time in their life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching them sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot. . . "

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Kyla seemed to be lost in thought. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy and girl," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you two, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end--"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -- I'm warning you -- one more word. . . "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Kyla, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Kyla. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you's. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see. . . he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Twins. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you two stumped him, all right. "

Hagrid looked at them with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry and Kyla, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? A witch? Them? How could they possibly be? They'd spent their life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if they were really a wizard and witch, why hadn't the Dursleys been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock them in their cupboard? If they once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick and push them around like a football?

"Hagrid," Harry said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard. And Kyla can't be a witch."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a witch or wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it. . . every odd thing that had ever made their aunt and uncle furious with them had happened when they, Harry and Kyla, had been upset or angry. . . chased by Dudley's gang, Harry had somehow found himself out of their reach. . . arguing with a teacher about homework, Kyla made the homework fly away. . . and the very last time Dudley had hit them, hadn't they got their revenge, without even realizing that they were doing it? Hadn't they set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, Kyla was almost laughing, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at them.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry and Kyla Potter, not a wizard and witch -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts. "

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you their not going?" he hissed. "Their going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and--"

"If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's children goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their name's been down ever since they were born. Their off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER -- " he thundered, " -- INSULT -- ALBUS -- DUMBLEDORE -- IN -- FRONT -- OF -- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry and Kyla saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. Now they were both laughing.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do. "

He cast a sideways look at the Twins under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job. "

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore. "

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that. "

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and Kyla.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' doormice in one o' the pockets. "

Hagrid started snoring and the twins were smiling. They were a wizard and a witch. For the first time since this ordeal started the had a peaceful night of sleep.

* * *

**Yayayayayayaya! This was a short chapter!! Things will get more complex once they go to Hogwarts so keep an open mind!**

**Hope you all have a great day! ͜ʖ ͡ –**


	5. Chapter 5

The Potter Twins and the Sorcerers Stone

Chapter 5

Diagon Ally

The twins woke early the next morning. Although they could tell it was daylight, they both kept their eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream, Harry told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell us we were going to a school for wizards and witches. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard. "

Kyla repeated those words and covered her eyes with her hands.

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Kyla mumbled, "We're getting up."

They sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off of them. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Kyla scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a bird had taken flight inside if her. She went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that. "

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl--"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets. "

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags, mice. . . finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones. "

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window. Kyla picked up the mouse they found and put it on her shoulder.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Twins, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school. "

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though a happy ballon inside of him had punctured.

Um -- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night. . . he won't pay for us to go and learn magic. "

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed--"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither. "

"Wizards have banks ?"

"Are they magical?"

"Just the one, very magical. Gringotts. Run by goblins. "

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins ?"

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, you two. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business. " Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you -- gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see. Got everythin'? Come on, then. "

They followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Kyla asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew ?"

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh. "

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying. Kyla was staring at his coat, wanting to see what other magical stuff was in there.

Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry and Kyla another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic.

"Never!"

Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat. "

Harry sat and thought about this while Kyla was talking to Hagrid and Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life. Kyla didn't seem to mind talking but she wasn't asking questions, hoping not to annoy him.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice. "

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do ?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country. "

"Why?"

"Is it dangerous for Muggles to know?"

"Why? Blimey, you two, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone. "

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Kyla couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, you two? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as they ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon. "

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go. "

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Kyla so she could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters?" he asked as he counted stitches.

They took the parchment envelope out of their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need. "

The twins unfolded a second piece of paper neither of them had noticed the night before, and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL o f WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry and Kyla had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Kyla had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If the twins hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, they might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told the. so far was unbelievable, they couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place. "

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry and Kyla wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, the twins got the most peculiar feeling that only Hagrid and them could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered them inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's and Kyla's shoulder and making their knees buckle.

Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at them, "is this -- can this be -- ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry and Kyla Potter. . . what an honor. "

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. and Ms. Potter, welcome back. "

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at them. Kyla scooted closer to Hagrid as thought to hide from the stares. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry and Kyla found themselfs shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last. "

"So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud. "

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter. "

"Delighted, Mr. and Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle. "

"I've seen you before!" said Kyla, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop. "

"She remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!" Harry and Kyla shook hands again and again -- Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Kyla, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts. "

"P-P-Potters," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you t-two. "

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potters?" He laughed nervously. "You'll both be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself. " He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and Kyla to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come, you two. "

Doris Crockford shook Kyla's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds

Hagrid grinned at Them.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you two was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'. "

"Is he okay?" asked Kyla.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject -- now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry and Kyla's head were swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

Three up. . . two across. . . " he muttered. "Right, stand back, you two. "

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley. "

He grinned at their amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. Kyla looked at all the funny dressed people in front of them.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes -- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first. "

The twins wished they had about eight more eyes. They turned their heads in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . "

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about the twins age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," they heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever -- " There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments they had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. They were pointing stuff out to each other and talking excitedly.

"An' heres Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was --

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than the twins. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry and Kyla made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's and Ms. Kyla Potter's safe. "

"You have the key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. Kyla looked at the goblin on their left write stuff down with a quill.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order. "

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen. "

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Harry, and Kyla followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that. "

Griphook held the door open for them. Kyla, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's and Kyla's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but they kept them wide open. Once, they thought they saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late -- they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick. "

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Kyla gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All their's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry and Kyla cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped them pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh. " He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. Kyla was asking Griphook questions till he shushed her, causing her to pout and Harry to laugh.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Kyla was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -- but at first she thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry and Kyla longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had. Kyla was checking the list for supplies needed.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Twins, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts. " He did still look a bit sick, so they entered Madam Malkin's shop together, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him and Kyla on the other side of the boy, she slipped a long robe over their heads, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Yep," said Kyla.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. "

Harry and Kyla were strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Kyla said, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"Sure" Kyla supplied, not feeling that smart.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at the Twins and pointing at three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts. "

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Kyla. She was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed. "

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you two? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean. "

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry or Kyla could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's it, your done, my dears," and the twins, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry and Kyla were rather quiet as they ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought them (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. Kyla didn't say anything either. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote and Kyla found a floating magic quill. When they had left the shop, Harry said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh two know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make us feel worse," said Kyla. She told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"-- and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in--"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules. "

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but--"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one. "

"Vol-, sorry -- You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Harry's and Kyla's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid had to drag Kyla away from the bookshelves and almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level. "

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. He wouldn't let Kyla get the shiny silver one that had stars as a design. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry and Kyla, Harry and Kyla examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left -- A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh two a birthday present. "

The twins felt themselfs go red.

"You don't have to--"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at -- an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'. "

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Kyla got a Short-Eared Owl, hopping in his cage, hooting softly. They couldn't stop stammering their thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now -- only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand. "

A magic wand. . . this was what Harry and Kyla had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. Kyla was looking for the shopkeeper.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and Kyla jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Good Afternoon." Kyla offered.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. Kyla Potter. " It wasn't a question. "You both have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. "

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. "

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where. . . "

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands. . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . "

He shook his head and then repeated his actions with Kyla. To both of their reliefs, he spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. The twins noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -- Mr., Ms. Potter. Let me see. " He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er -- well, We're both right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it. " He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head, and repaeated these actions for Kyla. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Potters. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. "

Kyla suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring her ears, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave. Ms. Potter try this, Limewood and Unicorn hair. 11 inches. Sturdy."

Harry and Kyla took the wands and (feeling foolish) waved them around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of their hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try--"

Harry tried -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out. "

Kyla tried. And then they both tried. They had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customers, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now -- yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. "

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well. . . how curious. . . how very curious. . . "

He turned to Kyla and pulled a wand out of the nearest shelf.

"Curious, lets see, try this. Elm wood and phoenix feather, 14 1/2 inches, hard flexibility."

Kyla waved it around and silver and blue sparks shot out. Lighting up the room. They all cheered and clapped.

He put Harry's and Kyla's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious. . . curious. . .

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed them with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, and your sister's, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother -- why, its brother gave you both that scar. "

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. and Ms. Potter. . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great. "

Kyla shivered. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. They paid seven gold Galleons for their wands, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Kyla and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry and Kyla didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; they didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap and Kyla's short-eared hooting. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry and Kyla a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, you two? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words. Kyla was feeding some bread to her owl.

"Everyone thinks we're special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander. . . but we don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? We're famous and we can't even remember what we're famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night our parents died. "

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact. "

Hagrid helped Harry and Kyla on to the train that would take them back to the Dursleys, then handed Kyla an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. . . See yeh soon, you two. "

Kyla gave Hagrid a hug before the train pulled out of the station. They wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; they rose in their seats and pressed their noses against the window, but when they blinked Hagrid had gone.

* * *

Can you guys belive this Corona Virus stuff that's happening? At least I have more time to work on this story.

I hope you all aren't sick and are washing your hands. ᕕ(•̀෴•́)ᕗ


	6. Chapter 6

The Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 6

The Journey from Platform 9 3/4

The twins last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of them he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut them in their cupboard, force them to do anything, or shout at them -- in fact, they didn't speak to them at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry or Kyla in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Harry and Kyla kept to their room, with their new owls for company. Harry had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. Kyla called her owl Ivory, after a potion ingredient. Their school books were very interesting. They layed on their bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased, and Ivory hooting and snuggling them both. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because the owls kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry and Kyla ticked off another day on the piece of paper they had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August the twins thought they'd better speak to their aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so they went down to the living room where the Dursleys were watching a quiz show on television. Harry cleared his throat to let them know they were there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er -- We need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts. "

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?"

Grunt. Harry and Kyla supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you. "

They were about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Neither of them spoke.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Kyla, realizing this for the first time. She pulled the ticket Hagrid had given her out of her pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," she read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters. "

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters. "

"It's on our tickets. "

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother. "

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings. "

Harry and Kyla woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. They got up and pulled on their jeans because they didn't want to walk into the station in their wizard's robes -- they could change on the train. They both checked their Hogwarts list yet again to make sure they had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig and Ivory was shut safely in their cages, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Kyla's and Harry's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to the twins, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's and Kyla's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for them. Kyla thought this was suspicious and Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, twins. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Kyla was looking desperately for their train. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth were they going to do? They were starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig and Ivory. They'd have to ask someone.

Harry stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Kyla asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. The twins was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and they had no idea how to do it; they were stranded in the middle of a station with trunks they could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and two large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. Kyla wondered if she should get out her wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind them and they caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-- packed with Muggles, of course--"

"Muggle?!" Kyla whispered.

They swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like theirs in front of him -- and they had an owl.

Hearts hammering, the twins pushed their carts after them. They stopped and so did the twins, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go. . . "

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first. "

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry and Kyla watched, careful not to blink in case they missed it -- but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of them and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear. "

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone -- but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it. They would have to ask.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too. "

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Kyla. "The thing is -- the thing is, we don't know how to--"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and they both nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron. "

"Er -- okay," said Harry.

They pushed their trolleys around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

Kyla started to walk toward it. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. Kyla walked more quickly. She was going to smash right into that barrier and then she'd be in trouble -- leaning forward on her cart, she broke into a heavy run -- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer -- she wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control -- she was a foot away -- she closed her eyes ready for the crash --

It didn't come. . . she kept on running. . . she opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock. Kyla looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, she had done it. Harry came through, almost running into her, and stared at the engine.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry and Kyla pushed their cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again. "

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on. "

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

The twins pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. They put Hedwig and Ivory inside first and then started to shove and heave their trunks toward the train door. They tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice Harry dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Thank you." Kyla gasped.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's and Kyla's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you -- ?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter. " chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am. "

"Then you must be --" They looked at Kyla.

"Kyla Potter, pleased to meet you." She stuck out her hand to try and give thanks.

The two boys gawked at them, and the twins felt themselfs turning red. Then, to their relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom. "

With a last look at Harry and Kyla, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Kyla sat next to him close enough to see what was going on. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose. "

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom -- geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now. "

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry and Kyla noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves--"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea. "

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once--"

"Or twice--"

"A minute--"

"All summer--"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there. "

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two -- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or--"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet. "

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom. "

"It's not funny. And look after Ron. "

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us. "

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired boy and reddish-blackish-haired girl who was near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

"Harry and Kyla Potter!"

Harry heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see them, Mom, eh please. . . "

"You've already seen them, Ginny, and the poor children aren't something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there -- like lightning. Kyla had one on her eye."

"Poor dears -- no wonder they were alone, I wondered. They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform. "

"Never mind that, do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school. "

"All right, keep your hair on. "

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls. "

"We'll send you a Hogwarts' toilet seat. "

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom. "

The train began to move. Harry and Kyla saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to -- but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind. Kyla was taking a book out trying to find out what was to be expected. They chatted excitedly for a few minutes.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full. "

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and Kyla and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Kyla saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron. "

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there. "

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry, Kyla," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then. "

"Bye," said Harry, Kyla and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really the Potter Twins?" Ron blurted out.

They nodded.

"Oh -- well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you guys really got -- you know. . . "

He pointed at Harry's forehead and Kyla's eye.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Kyla took off her reading glasses, Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who -- ?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but we can't remember it. "

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well -- we remember a lot of green light, but nothing else. "

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at them for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Kyla, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found them.

"Er -- Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him. "

"So you must know loads of magic already. "

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible -- well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish we had three wizard brothers. "

"Or sisters."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat. "

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff -- I mean, I got Scabbers instead. "

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry and Kyla didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, they'd never had any money in their life until a month ago, and they told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

". . . and until Hagrid told us, we didn't know anything about being a wizard or witch or about my parents or Voldemort--"

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Kyla.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you two, of all people--"

"We're not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "We just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? We've got loads to learn. . . I bet," Kyla added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying her a lot lately, "I bet we're the worst in the class. "

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough. "

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry and Kyla, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to their feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry -- but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Harry came back in and saw Ron and Kyla gad been talking. Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Kyla immediately went for the chocolates.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef. . "

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on--"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us. "

"Go on, have a pasty," said Kyla, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry's and Kyla's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Kyla asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" She was starting to feel that nothing would surprise her.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa. "

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy. "

Kyla unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore. Harry did the same and held up the same card.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa -- thanks--"

Kyla ate the frog, then turned over her card and read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Kyla turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her. . . do you want it? You can start collecting. "

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos. "

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Kyla started trying the pastries, and Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the Druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor -- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once. "

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh -- see? Sprouts. "

"Oh this will be fun." Kyla smiled.

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. Kyla got toffee, butter, toothpaste, salmon, pear, and a very spicy one that was apparently dragon pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry and Kyla had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"He can't get far." Kyla offered.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him. . . "

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk. "

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look. . . "

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway--"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. Kyla felt her face grow hot.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then. "

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er -- all right. "

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow. "

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard -- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Kyla Potter. I also learned the books by heart." Kyla flushed

"Did you really?" asked Hermione. "I know all about you two, of course -- I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're both in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. "

"Are we?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon. "

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell -- George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud. "

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin. "

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the end of Scabbers' nose is a bit lighter," said Kyla, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry was also wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles -- someone tried to rob a high security vault. "

Harry and Kyla stared.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it. "

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying. Kyla doubted how powerful he really could be.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er -- I don't know any. " Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world -- " And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry and Kyla through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Kyla and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at them with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry and Kyla Potter's in this compartment. So it's you two, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. "

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford. "

He turned back to the twins. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potters. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there. "

He held out his hands to shake theirs, but Harry and Kyla didn't take it.

"I think we can tell who the wrong sort are for ourselfs, thanks," he said coolly.

"Thanks for the offer, but no." Kyla replied.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potters," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you. "

Kyla, Harry, and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"You should go back to your compartment." Kyla offered.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some. "

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron -- Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle -- Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry and Kyla. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No -- I don't believe it -- he's gone back to sleep. "

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Kyla explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side. " He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right -- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He, Kyla and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. "

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron and Kyla, he saw, looked pale. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air, Kyla came closer to him. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and the twins heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, you two?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Kyla thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here. "

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Kyla, and Ron were followed into their boat by Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

Okay! Next chapter will be either complex or cringy. I really like doing this, even though my thoughts are turning into a british accent!

Have a good day everyone! ᕦ( ͡͡~͜ʖ ͡ )ᕤ


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